Quiet Reassurance
by Guardian of Jupiter
Summary: Defending Alexander during the brawling at King Phillip's wedding had brought Hephaestion a dangerous enemy. How far did the nemesis willing to go and when the damage was done, how did Alexander repair it? AlexanderHephaestion


I wrote this fanfic for Shannon Lee who wanted this. A little bit long but I hope she is happy with this. Historic figures are not for anyone to own.

* * *

**Quiet Reassurance **

_'A true friendship is one soul dwells in two bodies'_

* * *

"Why did you not take Hephaestion with you, Alexander?" Ptolemy asked, trying to sound nonchalant. For days, Alexander's grim and tense face did not calm the rest of the group. Ever since the ugly brawl at King Phillip's wedding, the prince left with his mother, and some of his close companions were exiled by angry king, Alexander's expression was stoned and he hardly spoke if it was unnecessary. Ptolemy correctly assumed that it was due to the absence of the one Alexander needed the most; Hephaestion.

Among all the companions, the fact that Hephaestion wasn't exiled together with the rest of Alexander's close companions by King Phillip surprised Ptolemy the most. It did occur in Ptolemy's mind that something was up and he wondered what Alexander was thinking about this.

What baffled Ptolemy endlessly was why Alexander did not take Hephaestion with him or rather why Hephaestion did not go with Alexander when the prince opted for self-exile. He suspected that it was somehow related to the night discussion before the departure between Alexander and Hephaestion. What was transacted that night, Ptolemy never did know butthe look of Alexander's face the next morning was unpleasant.

Alexander didn't say anything. But Ptolemy waited. And finally Alexander sighed inaudibly. "It was for the best." His tone was firm as if he was not only trying to convince Ptolemy but himself. Again Ptolemy waited for the stubborn prince to elaborate.

"I do not want Hephaestion to be exiled for the offensive words I threw in blind anger," Alexander continued; this time the words came out bitter. "Sometimes, I think he sacrifices for me more than I for him. I am not feeling pleased for that."

Ptolemy might not fully understand the deep relationship between them, but he understood how important Hephaestion was to Alexander. Ptolemy had been around Alexander since the golden-haired prince was a little boy. Alexander was so headstrong and cold that people often mistaken the prince as untouchable; he was so focused and passionate that people often thought the prince was obsessed. And Hephaestion came into Alexander's intense world; suddenly the unbalanced forces within Alexander slowly became equivalent.

He softened the stubborn prince; he burned Alexander's icy wall; he made Alexander smiled and then laughed and inevitably cried; Hephaestion became Alexander's sole link between the worlds of dreams and realities. He had loved Alexander like no one else; he became Alexander's strength when the world was pressing Alexander down; he was the most vibrant color in Alexander's life; he touched Alexander in places that no one even knew were there; he was... Alexander's Patroclus.

Ptolemy had never known a love like that.

Ptolemy smiled playfully, trying to lighten up the brooding prince. "Oh, so what about us that were exiled because of you and followed you here, hmm?"

"You," Alexander tried again. "You're different, Ptolemy. All the rest of you are different. But Hephaestion…" Alexander's gaze suddenly became so faraway and Ptolemy knew what was the prince was seeing right now. "Hephaestion would follow me to the end of the world if I asked him too. He would protect me even if he had to break his body. He would do anything so all my dreams will be fulfilled." And slowly a soft smile graced the previously grim face. "He's a… miracle… a gift from gods…"

And then Ptolemy was awed, not at Alexander's uncharacteristic expression, but the power Hephaestion hold. Even he wasn't here, Hephaestion still managed to coax the prince out of his dark mood with mere memories of him. Perhaps Hephaestion was indeed a miracle, for succeeding to make the troublesome prince to finally smile after six days of grim and silence when all of them, including Queen Olympias herself failed. "Of that there is no doubt." Ptolemy breathed softly, more to himself than to Alexander.

Alexander looked at Ptolemy, slightly startled at his tone and as if he found something pleasing plastered on his close companion's face, Alexander's smile widened. Ptolemy grinned back.

"Father exiled you because you are my close companion." Alexander murmured thoughtfully after a moment or two of comfortable silence. "Why wouldn't he exile Hephaestion as well?"

Ptolemy shrugged at the question, glad his prince's tense appearance to melt away. "I have no idea, Alexander. It surprised me as well. Perhaps he knew that he didn't have to actually force Hephaestion to leave. Since you are self-exiled, there's no doubt Hephaestion would follow you."

Alexander frowned, finding no satisfaction in Ptolemy's reasoning. "But I left first. Surely seeing Hephaestion did not come with me in the first place, father would exile him too. There's no secret about where Hephaestion stands around me."

The older man went silent at Alexander's words. Hearing this only made his uneasiness about Hephaestion not being among the ones who were exiled increased. One look at Alexander's face, there was no doubt the golden-haired prince were thinking at the same direction he were thinking.

Suddenly, like a strike of a lightning, Alexander's tranquil expression transformed to granite-hard. He abruptly stood up, "By gods! He wouldn't DARE!" …and stormed out of the royal tent.

Ptolemy was bewildered. It felt as if the whirlwind had come and left.

* * *

Hephaestion tried to find solitude in the palace but Alexander's absence made his search futile. The palace made him suffocating despite of its vastness and he had a very disturbing feeling of vulnerabilities. He was being a fool, for that Hephaestion knew for certain a long time ago, because wasn't he the one who allowed his heart to fall into Alexander's grasp? But this malicious atmosphere he felt wasn't because he was a fool or edgy but because it was really there.

That ugly night was so blurred. Perhaps it was the wine, though he didn't take much; he could hardly hold his liquor. But then he heard the arrogant Attalus's insulting words about Alexander being a bastard and all and by gods, he was so angry when he heard that. No one insulted his Achilles that low and was allowed to smirk so infuriatingly. Who was he to think that there was better heir to Macedonian throne than Alexander? Did he think the child that his niece bore could ever take the Macedonians to places Hephaestion knew Alexander _capably _would take them?

The fury was fast and hot. And he attacked Attalus. It was mostly an action spurred by anger and the wine as aphrodisiac. Did he regret it? Not a single thing except the fact he didn't manage a single blow to hit the bastard's face. He didn't usually do that, acting on his anger wasn't his nature. If he did, then he would be in fights all the times considering the numbers of enemies he made. But whenever it came to Alexander, he had no control whatsoever.

What a horrible argument they had that night after the incident. He couldn't believe some of the things Alexander said to him.

_I cannot let you come with me, Hephaestion…_

_Why not? Patroclus always followed Achilles. I will come with you, Alexander. _

_Not this time, my Hephaestion. I brought this myself. I cannot let you suffer the consequences of my stupid anger. _

_If there's a stupidity, Alexander, it is in your own words. Do you not remember? Every action you took will be my doing too; the anger you felt will be my anger too; every words you uttered will be my words too. How could I not let myself suffer for the things that I did? _

_Oh Hephaestion, of course I remember. You are Alexander in everyway. Do not doubt that… _

_…Then…? _

And Alexander had the nerve to say something about many sacrifices he made and enemies that surrounded him. As if he did not know all those things. Did Alexander not see that none of those mattered? Did he not know that he would make another one hundred enemies and another one thousand sacrifices for him just to be near him? Did Alexander not realize that he would face countless battles if it meant to help him reaching his dreams?

And then Alexander left.

Without taking him.

Without letting him to go with him.

For days he spent restlessly in the palace, spending each of the nerve-racking days looking back over his shoulder because he kept feeling someone was following him. So on the seventh day of Alexander's departure, he prepared his mount to head back to the place he knew would provide him exactly the peace he needed.

He had decided to go home.

The sun tilted a little to the west and it was early afternoon when Hephaestion walked into the stable to retrieve his horse. Ever since the other five of Alexander's close companions were exiled by the infuriated King Phillip, Hephaestion knew something was really wrong when he wasn't included. Instinct kept nagging him to leave the palace and after days battling with it, he consented. He would laugh out loud for his unreasonable edginess if not the persistent feeling of being followed haunted him again.

And this time the feeling was the strongest he had felt yet. His heartbeats quickened and his pale eyes looked around the dimly lightened stable. The fact that his vision confirmed he was alone did nothing to ease his pounding heart.

Somehow the power above was conspiring against him; Hephaestion realized that the spacious stable was empty and quiet. No one would hear any commotion if any fighting occurred for the stable was built a little farther from the first occupied building. Slowly, he dropped his saddle bag and drew out his leather-bound blade. He was trained to fight enemy using blade, one of the many weapon he learned to wield, but so far his training was to fight a visible opponent.

But not an invisible one… Hephaestion cocked his head around him, listening to the sudden sounds; his body went tense… and certainly not more than one…

He retreated quietly until his back touched one of the wooden pillars. His grip on the blade grew slick by cold perspiration. Narrowing his eyes, Hephaestion dared himself to break the silence. "I know your presence already. You can stop those useless stalking that you've been doing for days."

There was a sound of snort before several laughs followed. Hephaestion cursed at his pounding heart. Alexander once said to him that fear would make a warrior fight better. But not him. Fear would make him clumsy.

"Hephaestion, perhaps I have mistaken the extent of your abilities. And here I thought you can only please Alexander in bed like a true whore." The voice was mocking and Hephaestion knew that voice.

Raising the blade into an offensive stance, Hephaestion hissed. "Attalus!"

"Yes, of course," Attalus said amusedly. "It is the man whom you tried to punch the night of my niece's wedding. Too bad you didn't make it."

"What do you want?" Hephaestion asked unnecessarily. By the look of Attalus's face and the number of men he brought, _…one, two, three… five men? _there was no doubt of Attalus's intention.

Attalus's mocking face turned hard, "I cannot let such insolence on my niece's wedding to pass. Not without some retribution." He walked toward Hephaestion and grinned when the younger man unconsciously changed his stance into defensive. "Since I cannot get what I want from Alexander; he is Phillip's son, I think I would be satisfied enough from whatever I get from you."

"You bastard," Hephaestion spat angrily. And suddenly he understood everything. He understood why he wasn't included in the exile, why his mother wasn't so very pleased at his relationship with Alexander and why his father asked him whether he was ready to face consequences because of Alexander.

"No, the bastard is Alexander and about his impure noble mother, she was nothing but a crazy woman. Since words around say you are, too, Alexander, then you are a bastard too." Attalus's lips twisted into hateful curl. "No decent Macedonian would accept half-breed like Alexander as a king!"

Without warning, Hephaestion swung his unarmed fist and hit satisfyingly onto Attalus's right jaw. It met with a sickening thud and it made the humming pain on Hephaestion's left knuckles worth it. "No one insults Alexander." His tone was low but the warning was clear. "Alexander will be a king one day and not even your manipulative words and wedding can stop that."

Attalus spat out the blood. He nodded at the men he brought with. "You'll regret this, Hephaestion." With that, he turned around and left the stable.

Hephaestion could hardly hear the threat Attalus threw at him or his departure. His attention was on the five men that was circling him. By the looks of them, Hephaestion knew that those were probably some of the enemies he had made; they seemed to have been waiting for this opportunity for so long. Their true intention was vague, though, for Hephaestion couldn't decide whether they wanted to beat him up senseless or just to kill him.

But he would be damned if he ever was to find out. Gripping his blade, Hephaestion struck out at the first nearest opponent, knowing he was fighting for his life.

* * *

Hephaestion dragged his battered body to his room. Wiping away bloodied strands of hair from his forehead and eyes, he dared not made any sounds, fearing someone would stumble upon him and witness his humiliation. His whole body was screaming for each wavering step he took and his chiton was torn apart and bloodied. Though he cared not about the time, the fact that the building was dark and silence told him just how late it was.

Once he was safe behind the locked door of his room, his body started to tremble uncontrollably and finally his injured legs couldn't support his weight anymore; he collapsed on the middle of his room. The blood was dripping from his numerous injuries, staining the rug beneath him but Hephaestion did not care. On his right hand, the blade was still firmly within his grasp; its steel was stain with mixture of his opponents' blood. Hephaestion hold it like the blade was his last salvation. Tiredness, pains, humiliation and tears filled him, both overwhelming and numbing him at the same time.

It was not the injuries he received, nor the insults he got, nor the revenge others exacted on him because of Alexander that caused his numbness. Gods knew he would endure them again and again if it was wished upon him. He would endure all sort of physical abuses, he would take all of emotional ones for Alexander. His love was unconditional; he did not need others to understand.

But not this. Never _this. _

Hephaestion could feel blood tickling down his thighs and closed his eyes tightly as memories of earlier incident rushed into his mind. Even closed eyes could not be the needed barrier to hold the tears of weakness from sliding slowly out. But there was no sob to be heard, no movement to be seen; there was only intense pain to be felt. Hephaestion remained facedown on the floor with blood-matted hairs covered his face, still as the dark night, lost in the vicious memories and his grip on the blade never weakened for even a second.

And the tears kept on falling out without control.

Such prize to be paid for loving a prince. Such pride needed to be shattered… He had been cast out, jeered, hated, abused and now… _this._ What else had he owned for taken? His patience, strength, faith and love had been tested. They had never wavered, not even for a moment. Alexander was his destiny and he would not let such petty adversities took his destiny away from him. Surely such intensity he had shown was the proof that heaven needed from him.

_The world shall have Alexander and Hephaestion together or it shall have none at all. _Alexander's words… Alexander's promise… His whole world was centered to Alexander.

Alexander's name repeated across his mind like a holy mantra, calling out for his lover though he knew it was a futile effort. Alexander wasn't here; his Alexander was at his uncle's court. It wasn't far though. But no mind scream could reach him, there was no miracle to make Attalus to suddenly drop-dead and there was no amount of tears could wash the written dark past. Incoherent thoughts swiveled; his mind was at war but the war was in the numb state. Wanting to do something but could not.

Wanting to get up but could not. Wanting to tend the wounds before he bled himself out but could not. Wanting to hold Alexander now but could not. Oh gods, he wanted to do a lot of things but could not. Like why couldn't he move his body? Why suddenly breathing became so hard?

_Alexander… Alexander… Alexander… if I leave now, would you hate me? Don't hate me… I've tried… I've killed them all… all five of them… with this blade… only with this…_

"Hephaestion!"

Bloodied lips smiled softly, causing the still flowing tears to fall onto the lips. Perhaps mind scream did work. He was beginning to hear Alexander's voice. _I wish that I killed them before that happened… but I dropped my blade… _Hephaestion had stopped trying to move; he was cold, he felt stiff, he knew not whether this was merely a dream or cruel reality. _…I was a fool for dropping my weapon… Leonidas would have a fit if he ever knew I dropped my weapon… but you… you wouldn't tell him… would you, Alexander…? _

"Damn it Hephaestion! Open your eyes!"

_…But I got back my blade… When… when they were ravaging my body… I got my blade… oh, Alexander… don't be disgusted by me… I've tried… But there were too many… And I'm… I'm so tired…_

Hephaestion felt his body was being turned over and somehow his head was rested on someone's lap. Pain shot through him at the sudden movement that every of his stiff muscle jerked violently and low cries erupted from the back of his throat. The pain on his groin and inside him was the worst. He felt as if he was being impaled again.

Alexander's gray eyes widened in shock at the injuries. His lover's chiton barely covered his upper body and it revealed numerous knife injuries and dark bruises. And Hephaestion was in some kind of delirious fever. Raising his trembling hand to smooth the hair from Hephaestion's bleeding forehead, Alexander's jaws tensed, his breathing stopped when his palm touched the red blood. His gentle touching did not bring any response from his lover.

"God… Hephaestion…" Alexander breathed, tears pooled in his eyes. His coarse fingers combed gently through the dark hair. "Oh…my Hephaestion…"

He had left Hephaestion because he did not want his Patroclus to suffer for him; did not him to make any sacrifices for him. But he was wrong. No matter what his decision was, no matter how he wished no pain would touch his lover, Hephaestion would always be the one who was hurting. For once again, his lover was suffering for his action. Why did they still try to make an impossibility happened?

_If love brings so much pain; like Achilles and Patroclus, why people still long for it…? It is because the pleasure it brings no matter how brief it was, and to most, it is worth of all the pain…_

It was the brief pleasure of joining his soul with Hephaestion's during the night; it was the brief tranquility he felt when he looked into Hephaestion's crystal-blue eyes; it was the way his faith strengthened when he saw Hephaestion smiled, laughed or even cry; it was the brief relief of responsibility whenever Hephaestion invaded his mind and soul. There were all brief but he wanted to feel them again and again for the rest of his life that he didn't care for the perpetual pain this love brought upon them.

He hoped the pleasure was also enough for Hephaestion to find a little happiness in their love.

One cough from his lover snapped the dazed prince from his reverie. "Hold on, my Hephaestion." Alexander whispered to his lover's ear. Gathering his precious burden into his arm, Alexander started to lift Hephaestion but stopped when he noticed the blade in his right palm. He reached out to release the blood-dripping blade.

"…no…" Came out a hoarse, barely audible protest.

Gray eyes immediately snapped to his lover's face. "Hephaestion…?"

"…th…they'll… come back…" Hephaestion's pale blue eyes were unfocused, red from the silent tears. "…not going… to let them… not again…" And his fevered body gave away to shivers.

Red-hot fury built up so suddenly within Alexander. He was going to torture those bastards who dared to touch his lover until they begged for death that he would refuse until Hephaestion told him to! Swallowing the anger, he leaned forward to kiss softly on his lover's forehead and he whispered again. "I'm going to take care of you, my Patroclus… Release your blade… Let me be your weapon from now on…"

Breaths drew in and out unsteadily as Hephaestion battled with hallucinations and realities. Fever consumed him, he felt cold and hot at the same time and he wanted to… needed to know whether it was really Alexander talking to him or just make-believe from his desperate mind.

Alexander's tone dropped lower, more reassuring. "…I'll never fail you… never going to leave you again… will always protect you… will never stop loving you…" Slowly, Alexander's fingers pried the blood-slick weapon from Hephaestion palm. "…I'm your Achilles… your shield… your soul… your vengeance…"

The blade fell with a soft thud, as Hephaestion's hand tremblingly release his weapon to reach out for Alexander for the first time. He blindly grabbed a handful of Alexander's chiton, leaving blood-stain that probably would never come off. "…Alexander…?"

Lifting Hephaestion, Alexander murmured, "I'm here, love. And I'm going to tend your wounds." He then put his lover slowly onto the bed. He could exact his vengeance later; he wanted to look after Hephaestion more than he wanted to draw someone's blood.

"Sleep, Hephaestion, and worry no more…"

* * *

Dark was his dream. Unknown hands reached for him, touching him in places that brought both pleasure and pain. Feelings of humiliation for enjoying the assault and weakness for letting the intruding hands did whatever they wanted, swept over him like tidal waves. The sinful pleasure was ended with such pain that he never knew existed and he was torn, broken. He was punished for the unintended pleasure he felt.

_No wonder Alexander keep you as his whore! _

_Listen to his whimpers! Enough to make a holy man forget his teachings!_

_For someone who wiggles his ass into the court, you still fight like a cat._

_You mean, like a bitch? _

Laughter echoed cruelly around him. And they repeated the sickening acts; he felt so used, so battered, so… dirty. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to stick his blade into their stomach and spilled out their gut. He wanted to be the one who laughed at their predicament. He wanted to throw the remaining gut to Attalus. He wanted to watch the arrogant bastard choked at the smelly gut. He wanted to cry. He wanted to… die.

Suddenly, he felt a strong arm slipped around him and pulled him closer. Instantly, Hephaestion woke up from his dreams and thinking someone was trying to attack him, his eyes were snapped open and the first thing he saw was his blade on the floor. He didn't think; he just acted and he lunged from the bed toward the blade. Once he had the blade in his hand, he realized he was in the state of complete undress, expect from the bandages all over his body and he was hurting so bad. Abrupt movement made his head spinning sickeningly and he realized that he was so thirsty.

"Hephaestion…?"

A hoarse voice from the bed caused the brunet to turn around, raising the blade defensively. He determinedly ignored the deafening red and white pain that was howling at him.

On the bed was Alexander, equally undress, his fair eyebrows drew in together forming a frown. After tending the wounds, he did his best washing his lover's filthy hair. Throughout the washing, his lover, still restless from the fever, mumbling soft, barely coherent words and Alexander spoke back comforting words. And within an hour he knew exactly happened. The fury he felt that night contrasted strikingly with the coarse hands that gentled the way they were when cleaning Hephaestion, as if he was a miracle that should not be touched but to be savored. And gradually, his lover quiet down, his fever lessened and his breathings went easy.

He had never known the pleasure he felt while tending for Hephaestion needs; he had never done it before. Perhaps dramatic and sword-raising sacrifices weren't needed to repay Hephaestion's love; just little simple things. Hephaestion never asked for anything; but Alexander had seen the way his beautiful, beautiful blue eyes lightened or the way the corner of his mouth crinkled into delightful smile whenever Alexander did something uncustomary just to please him.

And now, seeing his lover's wild wide eyes with the raising blade, Alexander slowly left the bed, completely unabashed of his nakedness, and kneeled in front of him. "It's me, Alexander."

Rapid breaths slowed down and Hephaestion swallowed down hard. He took in his surrounding; strange relief overwhelmed him when he recognized his room. Then he saw Alexander in front of him, watching him intensely, unafraid even with the point of his blade touched his naked chest. "Alexander…?" The pale blue eyes blinked as if he finally woke up from a long nightmare, and then went wide when he realized he was pointing a sharp blade between the. Tossing the blade away, as if it was scorching him, his hands were shaking. "Why are you… Aren't you supposed to…"

"You are still feverish, Hephaestion…" Alexander interrupted softly as he reached for his lover's temple, stroking the dark brown hair that he loved so much. "Don't your stitches hurt? By right, you shouldn't be moving at all."

"Stitches…?" Then instantly memories from yesterday flooded back in full force. His preparation to go home, Attalus's threats, the rape, the murders, bloods; all shot through his mind like thousands of arrows falling from sky. "…god…" Hephaestion breathed and blood rushed from his face. "…god… Alexander…"

Shame washed him like never before as he slumped forward, burying his face in his palms as if he tried to shut out all the excruciating memories of yesterday's hell. The memories refused to be shut off and the sore pain inside him reminded him of every single detail memory. He could not help himself, but somehow he felt as if he had failed Alexander. "…forgive me… Alexander… I…"

Suppressing the anger he had felt since last night, Alexander reached out to pull Hephaestion slowly into his arms. "Don't say anything." He said roughly. "I know, Hephaestion, by gods! I know…"

Of that, Hephaestion had no doubt. They were sharing one soul. They felt each other so strongly. Wasn't Alexander here today, when it was just yesterday he was so far? But did a soul as strong as Alexander still want a broken and tainted one like his? He wasn't strong enough for Alexander. "…Do…do you still want me, Alexander...?" His words sounded so hollow. There were no more painful words strung together, not when he was asking whether his whole world still wanted him.

Alexander whole body stiffened at such question; Hephaestion felt it and started to pull away; Alexander tightened the hold and lifted his lover back to the bed, ignoring the surprising gasps. "You are straining the stitches with so many movements," Alexander said flatly. "Stop hurting yourself."

Pale eyes widened at the tone as Hephaestion looked up. "…Alexander…?"

"Stop asking idiotic questions, Hephaestion." Alexander looked down, his gray eyes darkened with such intensity. "You…" The words were caught behind his throat as he watched the blue eyes. So alive, so wide, so beautiful… No eyes could calm him like Hephaestion's did. And to think just last night those eyes were unfocused, dimmed and bordered to death…

Alexander had never felt such fear.

"By Gods above, do you not know how much you mean to me, Hephaestion?" Alexander asked softly, his thumb was caressing the shadow beneath the heavy lids of Hephaestion's eye. "Do you not know I cannot just stop wanting you if I wanted to? Do you not know there are no amount of scars can make you less beautiful to me? Do you not know the vengeance I will bring upon for you?"

Hephaestion's breathings were heavy at Alexander's words. Suddenly all the pain he suffered eased and all the humiliation he received felt so insignificant. And he knew this was what he fought for and would keep on fighting for the rest of his life. "…Alexander…" He reached for the tormented beautiful face. He knew that no other love would touch him ever again; not this strong, not this consuming. "I would die for you, Alexander. I would face battles for you; I would take wounds for you; I would love you like Patroclus to Achilles…"

"Would you take contentment from this relationship, Hephaestion?" Alexander asked, his eyes never looked away from the person beneath him. "Are you happy with me…?

"Oh Alexander…" He breathed in disbelief. Never in his mind had he thought Alexander would think he was discontent. "…I have known no such contentment that can rival my contentment with you. My happiness and my love for you are so strong; I fought for them every single day."

Alexander smiled beautifully and Hephaestion couldn't help returning the smile. And then, there were no more words needed, just touches and caresses. Alexander leaned down to touch his lover's lips, careful to not bumping the stitches and bandages. Their passion and love went hand in hand for it did not take long before the simple, gentle kiss grew into hard, desperate and probing one. Alexander's tongue gained entry and Hephaestion's mouth welcomed him.

Alexander didn't know what it was about Hephaestion that made him so intoxicated. But once he started kissing him, he couldn't and wouldn't stop. Perhaps it was because the way Hephaestion's passionate returns or the way those delightful muffling sounds he made. Everything about his lover pleased and fascinated him like no other.

As the kisses continued, his hands moved down to his lover's hard planes of stomach and down and down… When he realized that his lover was, too, aroused, he lifted his lips and grinned. "I thought you're injured, Hephaestion… What is this?"

The said injured man gasped when Alexander touched him. "It's your doing, Alexander…" Hephaestion managed. "I have no control over it..."And the damned flushes kept on appearing every single time Alexander teased him. He could try blaming them to the slight fever he had but by the look of Alexander, he was not fooling the man. Trying to feign ignorance, Hephaestion shrugged slightly. "But, of course, unless you do not want it…"

"Do I look like I do not want it?" Alexander raised an eyebrow as he demonstrated pointedly just how he wanted him. At the sounds of his lover's gasps and the way his lover's fingernails dug his arms, Alexander knew the answer. Still, he continued, loving the fact he was bringing pleasure to Hephaestion. "Do you feel like I do not want it?" He teased.

"Gods… Alexander…" Hephaestion threw his head back, lust filled his husky voice. He couldn't find any witty answer for Alexander's questions even if he wanted to. Instead, he spread his legs wider apart. Pain from injuries chanted the word _stop_ but pleasure begged to be satisfied. Such gratification Alexander brought upon him, making up for all the pain he received. He didn't care if his stitches broke or his wounds bled. All his senses were reserved to one particular place.

Then, when Alexander replaced his hand with something far hotter and distinctively wetter, pale blue eyes went wide and the gasps grew into cries.

"…you…you…" Hephaestion stuttered, couldn't believe how far Alexander was willing to go to please him. His mind was unable to form any coherent thoughts, let alone words. His body was for Alexander's manipulation and he carved for more.

"Yes, me," Alexander said possessively. "You're mine, Hephaestion. You are a gift from gods for Alexander. And I am Alexander." And he continued, wanting to hear more from the man that he valued more than his own life.

Hephaestion arched his back; his one leg wrapped around Alexander's shoulders; both hands gripped the sheet, anchoring himself from falling further down into the fathomless abyss of pleasure that Alexander created. He was failing, he knew that. He was losing his grips. "…Alexander…" He meant it to come out as a warning but it did not sound quite right.

But Alexander understood. He always understood. Instead of releasing him, Alexander took him deeper, making him light-headed; pushing him farther downward into the abyss. Pains were numbed and all he felt was the pleasure.

There were only, "…gods… I…" and erupted cry before all of Hephaestion's restrains broke, unleashing the very same wild passion that Alexander had worked so hard to see. Alexander lifted his head to watch with the same fascination and amazement when Hephaestion reached his limits. He swore that of all the beauty he had seen in his life, nothing could compare to this. There was something about the way his lover arched his body, the way his eyes fixed to nothingness, the way his hands reached out for him and especially the way he cried out his name.

A few eternities later, or so it seemed because now time ceased to exist, Hephaestion's passion-glazed eyes were brought to reality and his heavy breathings became the only sound in this room. Alexander remained spell-bounded, not realizing his own need. "…you are beautiful, my Hephaestion…" he whispered, swallowing down the awe he felt. "…gods, so beautiful…"

Eyes blinked and the customary flushes crept up the cheeks. Hephaestion smiled and healed. It did matter not if he was isolated by everyone in the court, nor if he was to repeat yesterday's nightmare over and over again, nor if he was hated and antagonized by all because in the end he would always have Alexander. Because in the end all that mattered was Alexander.

…And Gods knew heworth it…

* * *

Alexander walked so intently, fury aura was practically radiated around him that servants fled out of his way and the members of Phillip's court raised their eyebrows. The prince wasn't aware of all those, his mind was fixed to much more important person. The person he wanted to gut inside-out and hung him on a stake. He left the whispering hall and walked down to long corridor.

Arriving at a certain large room, Alexander didn't knock; he kicked the door forcefully, causing the door to slam open loudly. His steel-hard eyes scanned the room, Hephaestion's still bloody blade tightly in his grip and they narrowed dangerously when he found what he was looking for.

The man tried to stand up but Alexander was far more faster and younger that within a second, he had the man pinned to the wall with the blade pressed to his windpipe.

"Alexander!" Attalus gasped.

"Listen here, you bastard," Alexander hissed, pressing the blade deeper. Attalus felt his blood tickled warningly. "No one can hear you whimper here, so you better listen."

"You are not supposed to be here yet…" Attalus choked.

"I am a son of God. Nothing is impossible to me!" The prince snarled, rage screaming through his every action and word. "Now I'm back and your damned plot failed. You can't hurt me, you can't certainly hurt Hephaestion!"

Wide eyes and gasps from Attalus made Alexander chuckled evilly. "Yes, He's still alive. You have five corpses to deal in the stable and you know what, Attalus?!" He leaned closer. "He killed those bastards all by himself. Never underestimated Hephaestion. He's worth more than your sniveling men and their equally inferior skills!"

"You'll regret this, Alexander!" Attalus threatened as he struggled to loose the death grips. He couldn't believe Hephaestion had managed to kill his men. He had indeed miscalculated badly.

"Or you will do what, Attalus?" Alexander challenged silkily. "I am the only capable successor of my father. He knows that. No campaign he entrusted to me failed and no order he gave had I not yet fulfilled. I am the future king and not even any child your niece bears can change that."

"If Phillip knows this…" Attalus's words stopped as he yelped when he felt the blade pushed deeper.

"Be careful, Attalus…" Alexander's tone dropped gravely. "When I become a king, the first person I execute will be you. And you can be sure to expect the most horrible one…" It was not a warning; it was a promise. With that, Alexander released his grips on Attalus, wiping the bloody blade on the latter's chiton.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Attalus." And Alexander left, leaving the older man traumatized.

* * *

**A/N:** Alexander did left Phillip's court voluntarily with his mother. They stayed in Olympias's brother, Alexander, King of Molossi. According to the movie, Alexander was merely nineteen and I assume Hephaestion was nineteen too. Phillip did exile five of Alexander's close companions; Ptolemy, Nearchus, Harpalus, Erigyius and Laomedon due to that particular night. The fact that Hephaestion wasn't included, greatly intrigue me and thus, I connect those information with my imagination.

Alexander went for self-exile during spring and returned in the autumn. So it could be two to six months. My one week timeline in the story may not fit in the historical, butjust assum something _did_happen during the exile.And Alexander did execute Attalus soon after he became king.

I hope readers are enjoying this and reviews are greatly appreciated.


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